


Just a Talk

by TopHatCat



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bessie - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption (2010), Sad, agnst, and, becuase they love each other, but like in the past, but not really, is here but the boys interact, it's - Freeform, vandermatthews
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TopHatCat/pseuds/TopHatCat
Summary: Dutch wakes Hosea up in the middle of the night to talk.Or...Dutch has fears and Hosea is 100% there for him.
Relationships: Bessie Matthews/Hosea Matthews, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 17
Kudos: 41





	Just a Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Uuuh so I wrote this when I should have been sleeping. Also I cried a lot and was listening to AJR as I wrote, which was a bad idea. Please forgive any typos because i'm posting this directly after writing it. Yes, I really need to go to bed now. Goodnight and thanks for reading :)

When Hosea woke to the gentle tug on his sleeve, he at first thought it was Bessie trying to get his attention. He rolled onto his back so he could turn his face toward her side of the bed, murmuring, “What is it, honey?”

But the whispered, “Hosea” came from his right, not the left, and the tone was distinctly deeper than his wife’s voice. Years of sleeping on the edge, ready for anything, caught up to him and he sat up quickly, eyes straining against the black of the room.

“Who’s that?”

“It’s me,” said the voice in the darkness and his heart settled. He reached for the lamp to light it, but Dutch’s hand weighed heavily on his wrist, stopping him. The action was enough to bring him to complete alertness.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, hoping not to wake Bessie, but it was too late and he felt her shift beside him, mumbling,

“H’sea?”

“I need to speak with you,” Dutch replied as Hosea’s eyes started getting used to the dark. He could just make out his old friend leaning over him in bed. “Alone.”

Anyone else would have groaned and asked if it could wait until morning, but Hosea immediately latched onto the subtleties in Dutch’s tone, nuances he had tuned his ears to over the years. Patting Bessie’s arm, he pushed the covers back and swung his legs out of bed, feeling Dutch draw back as he did. “Just going to talk with Dutch for a moment, love. It’s nothing to be worried about.”

“Okay,” she yawned, only half-awake, and cuddled back into the quilt as Hosea followed Dutch into the main room of the cabin. It was empty, the fire low, what with everyone else asleep in other rooms or outside in tents. From here, Hosea could hear John’s light snores coming from behind one of the doors and see the soft glow of the scout fire outside. After closing the door to his and Bessie’s room, he faced Dutch and saw what he feared he would.

The man’s eyes were red, the skin around them puffy, and his lashes stuck together with tears. The corners of his mouth twitched downward in a frown he was obviously fighting to contain. Dark curls, usually kept in check with liberal amounts of pomade, cascaded around his face in messy waves and beneath them, his shoulders were slumped.

“Your room?” Hosea asked gently, holding out his hand, and Dutch took it in a heartbeat, gripping his fingers like they were the only thing keeping him grounded. Hosea led the way to the other bedroom, where the lamp was lit and the bed was unmade and messy, the blankets shoved nearly to the floor. Dutch’s twin Schofields were lying unholstered on the floor, and Hosea nudged them under the bed with his toe. A frown settled momentarily on his face, but he dismissed it before turning to Dutch again.

“What do you want to say?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Dutch’s hands went to his face, covering his nose and mouth, eyes shutting tightly and squeezing out two fresh tears. His entire body began to shake and Hosea spread his arms. Almost before he opened his eyes Dutch was falling into the embrace, sinking to his knees on the floor with the upper half of his body resting in his friend’s lap, hands fisting into Hosea’s shirt. The older man ran his fingers through tangled curls as Dutch let out muffled sobs against his leg.

“Shh, darling…it’s alright, it’s alright…,” he whispered over and over as the other man fell apart in front of him.

When the sobs eventually died into small gasps and hiccups, Hosea leaned down and pressed his cheek to the back of the head in his lap.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asked, thumb brushing a tear from Dutch’s cheekbone as the man turned his head, breathing heavily into the open air. Leaning back a bit, Hosea tilted his head, but couldn’t catch Dutch’s eye. “Talk to me.”

Dutch heaved in a long breath. “What am I doing, Hosea?” he said quietly, almost too softly to be heard. “What am I doing for _us_? For the rest of them? What sort of things am I accomplishing besides…besides…?” His fingers twisted harder into the shirt. “Besides _nothing_?”

“You do so much for us,” Hosea soothed, hands never stopping their patterns through the man’s hair. They moved with as much practice as the words that came out of his mouth. “None of us would be here if it weren’t for you. You’ve built a family out of broken souls and lost hearts. No one else could have done that.”

“It’s not _enough_.” Dutch pushed himself up and back, looking up into Hosea’s eyes as if searching for something. “I need to know that I’m-.” His gaze dropped, teeth biting his lower lip. “If no one trusts me as a leader…who am I?”

“Who doesn’t trust you?” Hosea asked, taking Dutch’s face in his hands and tilting it upward again. “Listen to me. We wouldn’t be _us_ without _you_. Arthur, John? They look up to you like a father. Susan? Pearson? They _respect_ you, I see every time they talk to you. And I….” Hosea hesitated over his next words, then discarded any qualms about speaking from his heart. “I need you, Dutch. Always have, always will. Forever.”

He was nearly crying himself now, and Dutch got to his feet, pressing foreheads together, then their noses, and their tears mixed over the flushed skin of their cheeks. His hands moved up to grip the sides of Hosea’s head, holding them together as the older man’s fingers curled around Dutch’s shirtsleeves.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” the outlaw whispered, his breath hot on Hosea’s lips, and the source of the night’s insecurities made sense. “You and Bessie can be happy here, with me, with all of us. It’s not a perfect home, I know, but I’ll make sure you’re happy. I’ll be better, I promise.”

“Oh, Dutch.” Hosea bit his tongue to keep from choking on his words, trying to catch his breath. He wanted to say that Dutch wasn’t the reason they left, at least not directly. He and Bessie had gone to try and escape the only life Hosea had ever known, but he simply hadn’t anticipated missing it so much, or missing the boys, or missing _Dutch_. “This is my perfect home.”

The outlaw’s lips were so close now that they brushed his, their breath mingling, and he could feel Dutch fighting the urge to close the gap. Hosea’s grip on the man tightened but he didn’t pull away. He knew that if Dutch decided to lean in, if he chose to move forward just a bit, and sealed their mouths together like he had countless times before…Hosea wasn't sure if he would stop him.

But Dutch didn’t kiss him. Instead, he moved back a bit so they could look into each other’s tired eyes and tears streaked faces, and he smiled, but it was weary and sad.

“Stay with me?” he asked hesitantly, and Hosea nodded.

“Let me…let me tell Bessie,” he said, and Dutch moved back from him completely. The places where his hands at rested were warm and sweaty, and immediately became chilled when they drew apart. Getting to his feet, Hosea crossed the main room into his room again, shuffling to the bed in the dark.

“I’m staying in Dutch’s room,” he whispered, shaking her gently. “He…he needs me.”

“Alright, love,” she replied quietly, and he bent down to kiss her clumsily in the darkness. She touched his cheek and he felt her smile. “You’re so good,” she whispered as he stood up again. “This is why I love you.”

“Love you too,” he smiled back, though he knew she couldn’t see it. Maybe she could hear it in his tone. Shutting the door, he went back to Dutch’s room to find the man fixing the blankets.

“I’ll do it,” he offered. “You get in bed.”

Dutch did as he was told without arguing, letting Hosea adjust the blankets over him before getting under them himself. Reaching over, he turned down the lamp until the flame died and the room was plunged into darkness.

They lay stiff and quiet for a long moment until Dutch’s hand crept across the space between them, brushing carefully against his hip and up his side, searching. Hosea captured the hand in his, locking their fingers together and Dutch rolled over so he was pressed up against Hosea, face burrowed in the space between the man’s shoulder and the mattress. After a short pause, Hosea let his own head tilt to the side, his nose filled with the faint scent of pomade as Dutch’s hair became his pillow.

As he was drifting off, he thought he heard Dutch mumble something into his arm, but the words were too muffled and his brain too tired to hear what the words were. He wondered perhaps if they were ‘I love you’, and sleepily squeezed the fingers entwined with his…

…just in case he was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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